


and the world wore red

by MichellesBoh (michellesbohh)



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Escorts to Lovers, F/M, Mentions of Substance Abuse, Michelle has needs okay, Political AU, Strangers to Lovers, it's fine, mentions of addiction and pharmaceuticals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28637133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michellesbohh/pseuds/MichellesBoh
Summary: "She made the choice to end it, but not without baring her own sins for all to see.An angry crimson blemish on the otherwise pristine fabric of her life, but she rested easy knowing that because of her things were better.That she'd made a difference.Knowing that because of her, the world wore red."It's an escorts to lovers extravaganza with an MCU twist.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 28
Kudos: 30





	1. Quiet Rage

**Author's Note:**

> Hello I am here with yet another WIP. Go me. 
> 
> CW: SEE END NOTE FOR WARNINGS!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please raise your right hand. Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth under pains and penalties of perjury?”
> 
> Michelle feels warm where she’s positioned at the center of the room.
> 
> (Eye of the storm is the equivalent that comes to mind).

“Please raise your right hand. Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth under pains and penalties of perjury?”

Michelle feels warm where she’s positioned at the center of the room.

(Eye of the storm is the equivalent that comes to mind).

There’s at least a hundred sets of eyes on her, burning into her from every direction as she stands before the panel of senators that will be deciding the fate of her career.

She’s dressed in her best skirt and jacket, outfit completed by her best attempt at remaining aloof (which is at about a 5 out of 10 given the circumstances), and devoting more effort than she feels she’s ever done to making sure she doesn’t give them the pleasure of her voice shaking.

“I do.”

It would be unprofessional of her to roll her eyes as she says it, but the too satisfied smirk on Senator Toomes’ face gnaws at the delicately woven fabric of her composure more than she’d planned for. She finds herself staring intently down at the table in front of her just to keep it together.

“Please, sit.”

The room remains deathly silent as she pulls out her seat (no cushions though she can see that every other chair has them), mentally taking stock of what she imagines will be her scenery for the next few weeks.

“Will the witness please state her full name for the record?”

She doesn’t give them the dignity of eye contact as she grips the too hard sides of her wooden chair to slide it forward and states smoothly, “Michelle M-.”

“Louder, please!”

She takes a slow breath in through her nose to keep from snapping in the way her lawyer has spent 2 weeks coaching out of her (really, Cindy deserves a raise) and adjusts her mic noisily to cover the sigh she releases in compromise.

Michelle has to bite back her self-satisfied smile as she watches the entire panel cringe at the piercing feedback.

“Michelle. Marie. Jones.”

“Yes. Thank you. Please confirm the validity of the following details: You were employed by Beck, Gutterman & Associates LLP for a ten year period between 2026 and 2036 before moving to-”

“Eleven year.”

“Excuse me?”

She can see Cindy out of the corner of her eye, hand raised to her mouth undoubtedly to cover the frown that’s formed there. And listen; she knows interrupting will do nothing to help her case, but she feels like a grizzly bear trapped inside a cage and being told she deserves to be there.

Feels like even if she can’t escape this farce of a hearing or put up the kind of fight they’re expecting from her, she can still bare her teeth at them if she damned well pleases.

For the first time she keeps her eye contact steady as she leans into the mic, “There are eleven years between 2026 and 2036.”

There’s a glint in Senator Toomes’ eye that in a campaign ad might be mistaken as friendly or charming, but Michelle has been in Washington for far too long not to recognize the foreboding behind it. The thinly veiled threat in it.

“So there are. Thank you Miss Jones.”

* * *

_“So you clear your student debt and then celebrate by immediately enrolling in post-grad?”_

_Betty grins at her and considers bumping her shoulder but decides against it in the interest of remaining professional. “Academia is more my scene.”_

_“Okay, name one thing you can do today that you couldn’t do yesterday?”_

_“Quit my job.”_

_Michelle laughs lightly at that but continues her brisk pace through their office. “You could’ve done that yesterday,” she pauses to grab the door handle turning to look Betty in the eyes before adding, “ it just would’ve been stupid.”_

_When Betty follows her into the washroom, she tries not to seem any more irritated than usual, but an eye roll escapes even her best efforts at remaining stoic on the matter._

_Once she’s inside the stall (floor to ceiling walls thank god), she speaks. “I know you didn’t follow me into the crapper just for the scenery, Brant. What is it?”_

_She can practically hear Betty’s blush through the door at her crassness. “Um, well Senator Harrington is still pushing his palm oil bill-”_

_“The ‘Nutella Tax’?” she confirms, rooting around in her bag until she feels cool metal._

_“Nutella? Isn’t palm oil in basically everything?”_

_“Yes, and we could’ve called it the ‘soap tax’ but people don’t care about that as much. Hiking up the price to drown your sorrows in chocolate hazelnut gets people worked up.” She’s getting frustrated the longer she digs around and can’t find what she needs._

_Betty must hear her rustling because she asks in a whisper, “Did you need a tampon?” Her responding scoff is enough of an answer, but Michelle likes to be as clear as possible._

_“No, Betty I don’t. Now focus, what’s going on with Harrington?”_

_Betty shuffles the papers around the file in her hands until she finds what she’s looking for and MJ uses the distraction to extract one round white pill from the container she’d been looking for earlier._

_She pops it into her mouth and swallows it down dry, breathing deeply through her nose as she settles on the knowledge that she’ll feel less strung out in an hour or so. A little less like the pressure of her notoriety is suffocating her slowly._

_“Oh! Yes, he’s still pushing but I think if we can get 4 more senators to come out in opposition, we can get him to back down.”_

_Michelle flushes the toilet with her foot and opens the door, breezing past Betty towards the exit as she says “Okay let’s get him out on a flight by Saturday-”_

_“You never wash your hands.”_

_Another huff. Another sigh and she’s back at the sink, splashing water and working too sticky liquid soap between her fingers. Betty holds out a paper towel and Michelle nods in thanks before continuing._

_“Get him out to Indonesia with the wife and kids. They’ll spend a luxurious 4 days on a beach somewhere, he’ll return hailing the validity of their conservation efforts or whatever, and his bill dies a quiet dignified death.”_

_She says it like it’s the most obvious solution in the world and Betty is floored._

_“I-isn’t it illegal for lobbyists to arrange international travel for a sitting Senator?”_

_Michelle’s returning smile is smug at best and predatory in reality. “Yes. Which is why you have a non-profit file the paperwork for travel and we keep our hands clear of it.”_

_“But we’re still-”_

_“Betty. We have a job to do. This is how we get it done. Now where’s the form?”_

_They’ve come to stop just outside the conference room where the rest of the team is waiting for them and Betty sets the form on top of her stack and watches, conflicted, as Michele quickly puts in all the pertinent information as she heads into the room._

_Once she’s gotten it all filled in, she hands the form back to her easily. “Take this down and have them sign off and I don’t want to hear about it again until you’ve got an itinerary and flight number in hand.”_

* * *

“We’ll come back to the Asian republic of Indonesia a little later. You see, what troubles me is the amount of influence you had,” Toomes wets his lips with a flash of his tongue as he seemingly muses aloud, but Michelle knows better. Knows that every word out of his mouth has been carefully planned and selected for this moment.

“I’ve gotten messages from senior figures in Washington who feared that you, a _lobbyist,_ could destroy their careers with a snap of your fingers. Is that a reputation you’ve… cultivated, Miss Jones?”

He pauses to offer her the opportunity to confirm or deny his most recent allegations. Rumours. Nothing but rumours is all they’ve trotted out against her since this started.

_They heard. Everyone assumed. It’s been said._

People have been talking about Michelle like this for as long as she can remember. Classmates and those few she dared call friends all drifted along with a breezy kind of understanding of who she was; never bothering to stop and put down roots to allow the friendships to grow.

They treated her like a puzzle they needed to figure out; not a major commitment, but worth an hour of their time on a rainy day if they got bored enough.

She decided a long time ago that they could talk all they wanted. They’d only ever know what she wanted them to. What she allowed.

“Upon the advice of counsel, I must respectfully decline to answer your question based on my rights under the fifth amendment to the United States constitution.”

“You see, it’s bad enough; one person having that much influence. But if that person is out of control?...”

Michelle shifts uncomfortably in her chair, visibly rattled for the first time since this whole thing began.

“If she has a...problem, an addiction, well,” Toomes chuckles darkly to himself, seemingly amused at her continued refusal to participate in these proceedings, but then he catches her eye, “it would be like the ship of American politics is being steered by a drunk.”

The cameras flash around her and there’s a dull murmur of intrigue rising from the balconies above.

“Have you…” he pauses for effect, always the showman, “ ever had any issues with substance abuse?”

Michelle stills, eyeing Toomes warily. She knows where this is going and it settles in the pit of her stomach like heavy stone that she’s powerless to stop.

“Upon the advice of counsel, I must respectfully decline to answer your question based on my rights under the fifth amendment to the United States constitution.”

He waves off her repetition, seemingly numb to her adamant refusal to answer any questions and continues as if she hasn’t spoken.

“I understand you have difficulty sleeping?”

Her lips part involuntarily, and she tilts her head in the most overt display of incredulity she can allow herself in this setting.

“We subpoenaed medical records. You’re a long-time sufferer of chronic insomnia…” Her nostrils flare as she forcefully exhales her disbelief. She turns to look pointedly at Cindy who gives nothing. Michelle knows the plan and she tries her best to stay the course.

“...you regularly work 16 hours a day and yet you can’t get off to sleep?” Toomes remains as calm as ever, watching her unravel in front of his eyes.

Just like he wanted.

You see, this line of questioning has little to do with why Michelle has been called here today, but it’s been included to establish a bias against her in the eyes of the spectators.

_Reckless. Predatory. Cognitively impaired._

Sure she isn’t offering any agreement, but if he continues to paint this portrait of her unchallenged it won’t matter to the end result.

The click click click sound of the cameras swells and she runs a hand across her face quickly, the most obvious indication of her irritation.

“Upon the advice of counsel, I respectfully- I must respectfully decline to answer your question based on my rights to- under the fifth amendment of the United States consti- to the constitution. Whatever.”

_How is it legal to just expose someone’s medical history like that?_

She grasps her water glass, drinking greedily as she tries to take deep breaths. Her face feels hot both from anger and embarrassment at having her personal issues aired so publicly.

“You were prescribed multiple courses of benzodiazepines, but according to the deposition by one of the witnesses gathered here today, you’ve been procuring, off-prescription, a course of psycho-stimulants in the aim of keeping you awake just a little bit longer. Is this true?”

Michelle sits stiffly, eyes fixed on one chipped floor board just below the bench where Toomes sits as she lets the question hang in the air too long. “Miss Jones?”

She feels numb, a rushing in her ears that she can’t explain as she repeats robotically, “Upon the advice of counsel, I must respectfully decline to answer your question based on my rights under the fifth amendment to the United States constitution.”

“Alright getting back to this business about the Asian republic of Indonesia-”

“I am not a drug addict!” Her gaze is fierce and focused as the crowd erupts behind her and the photographers move around to the front of her table.

“And this line of questioning has no revel- relevance in this case.” She’s breathing heavily, passion and fury winding its way through her words as she finally ( _finally)_ stands her ground.

“My medication doesn’t affect my judgement any more than a double espresso!” The proverbial floodgates have been opened and now she can’t seem to stop herself. “And speaking of intoxication, I can recite from memory a list of upstanding elected _Senators_ who voted on legislation while severely inebriated.”

If she were more clear headed, if she could just take a moment to breathe, she would see the smug victorious smile on Senator Toomes face, but she can’t.

She can’t see herself. She can’t hear herself. She can’t _stop_ herself and even with Cindy leaning forward in her chair, compelling her to look away, to just stop talking, she continues.

“And _lastly,_ I think we are _fully_ aware and in no danger or forgetting that Indonesia is a republic which happens to be situated on the continent of Asia!” She grapples for her water glass with shaking hands, taking a long drink and smacking her lips as she turns back to face him, “But please, say it a 75th time.”

Toomes leans back in his chair, turning to his peers on either side of him who sport varying levels of shock at this outburst after so many hours of staunch refusal to utter anything more than those same 25 words.

“Miss Jones. Welcome to the party.”

* * *

_The first time she meets him, it’s after one of the longest days she’s had in awhile (and she works 16 hours a day)._

_She hears the click of the hotel lock and slips inside her usual suite, room 904, and drops her keys and purse on the side table by the door. Michelle is already unbuttoning the sleeves of her silk blouse when she turns the corner into the bedroom area and sees him._

_“Who the fuck are you? Where’s Harry?”_

_There’s a man there, a man she’s never met, lounging on the bed._

_Shirtless._

_(It’s important to note that he’s shirtless)._

_“Harry’s moved on I’m afraid.”_

_Michelle huffs, folding her arms around her as she takes a step forward. “No. I told the agency that I specifically wanted Harry. Where is he?”_

_Her new guest sips absentmindedly at the drink in his hand, whiskey it looks like, sitting up on the bed for a moment to set it on the nightstand._

_“I’m not his keeper. I just know he’s outta the business.You can call me Parker.”_

_“Is that even your real name?”_

_“Real enough for you.”_

_He licks his lips, fingers flexing around his thigh as he eyes her easily, trailing up her legs, past the curve of her exposed cleavage and up to her face. “You’re really pretty.”_

_She bites her lip, fidgeting under his inspection though she tries to hide her nerves around a scoff, “Therefore I have value?”_

_He pales and the smirk she wears is a little victorious and a little bit vicious and that’s when he smiles at her again, with thinly concealed interest._

_“If you’d prefer someone else I can just go,” he tells her, even though it’s the last thing he wants._

_“No!” she says a little too quickly, backing off a bit as she continues, “no. You’ll do fine. You’re... pretty too.” She’s already pulling her camisole over her head when he registers her words._

_When she turns back in only her bra and skirt, he feels himself stiffening. She’s fucking gorgeous and he can’t believe how lucky he’s gotten._

_Michelle sweeps her hair over one shoulder as she approaches and settles herself unceremoniously into his lap, “Let’s get to the point then.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boi here we goooo
> 
> Summary is not in this chapter and won't turn up for a while so stay tunedddd
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Careful Convictions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michelle is leaning against Beck’s desk when he barges in and she comments idly, “She’s good, isn’t she?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank so much for response to the last chapter! This chapter is all flashback but hopefully still engaging! Our girl's a hot commodityyyy

_“I’m told I should...offer my hand?” Jim trails off looking expectantly at the two other men seated at the table._

_“Well when we meet! I should shake her hand! I’m told she doesn’t care for all that kissy-kissy stuff that women usually need these days.”_

_“You two have never met?”_

_Starlin swings back and forth in his chair as he clears his throat, “Uh, yeah we’ve been to several of the same functions, but we’ve never had the pleasure of being properly introduced.”_

_Beck laughs from his seat across the table, “In a town this small? How does that happen?”_

_He never gets an answer because the click clack of high heels reaches their ears and Starlin stands in preparation to greet their guest of honor._

_“So I should offer my hand?” He checks on last time, and Gutterman speaks up for the first time as he goes to open the door._

_“I wouldn’t worry about it. Ah! Come in, Miss Jones.”_

_One thing she hates about office building is that all the walls are glass. (Who’s idea was that anyways?)_

_When she’d turned the corner and seen the group of old, grumpy looking white men all gathered around the conference table, her own boss included (not so old but just as grumpy), she’d wanted nothing more than to turn on her heels and run._

_But just as she sees them, she knows they’ve seen her and that’s how she finds herself standing across from a burly looking man in a too tight suit._

_“Good morning!” she greets with as much enthusiasm as she can muster and locks her hand in his for a firm shake._

_“Jim Starlin.”_

_“Yes, I’m amazed it’s taken this long for us to meet.”_

_“Mmm I wanted to introduce myself last week at the state dinner but you were the first one out the door!”_

_Michelle leans an arm across the back of the nearest chair as she hums sympathetically, “Yes. Minor crisis on the hill.”_

_Starlin grins at her then, “See a lesser commander would have left that job to a soldier. That’s why I’m here.”_

_She shifts her weight to her other foot with a tilt of her head, “Yes why are you here? Killing bills like Heaton-Harris is food and drink for you guys.”_

_“Ah, so you’ve read it?”_

_Michelle takes a deep breath, “Yes. A gun control bill requiring universal background checks on the sale of firearms.”_

_“All firearms! A father and son on a farm? Lifelong friends? It just means longer delays. It’s not some big criminal or mental health database.” Starlin raises his arms out in frustration as he moves to take his seat and she does the same. “An unconstitutional fetter on the second amendment, which you agreed with at one point, I recall.”_

_“Mr. Starlin.” Michelle crosses her arms, easily ignoring the frown Beck is sending her from across the table as she leans back, “I deal primarily in taxation and government interference with free enterprise…”_

_“Oh yes, I know. But with the reputation you’ve built up for yourself, we were just looking for an excuse to engage you.”_

_She holds his gaze for a moment, considering, before she concedes, “Okay, let’s have it.”_

_And okay. She knows that laughing is inappropriate, but she can’t help the full bellied guffaw that escapes her as she listens to their plan._

_The entire idea of rebranding guns as a tool of female empowerment was ridiculous on it’s own, but their entire idea of her driving the agenda of an organization dedicated to it?_

_It really isn’t her fault that she laughed._

_“So what? ‘Mothers For a Safer America,’ by making sure every last citizen is armed to the teeth?” She barely gets the sentence across as she struggles to regain her composure._

_“Michelle.” Beck leans in, a warning, but she can’t seem to stop herself._

_“My god, is this the reputation I’ve garnered? ‘Gold medalist in ethical limbo?”_

_Starlin’s face sombers, stony eyes holding hers, “I see nothing unethical about reframing an issue.”_

_“Taking the gun lobby and dressing it up in a frilly pink frock to try and seduce the female voter?” She can’t help the scoff she releases as she stands from the table. “It is so crude that it could only have originated in a room full of old, white men.”_

_“Well it didn’t.” She almost doesn’t hear it, but the stillness of the two other people in the room allow the admission to reach her ears. “It was my idea. My personal idea.”_

_Michelle stands her ground, “It will take more than the trite wisdom that ‘we value security’ to get this firm behind your views on the second amendment.”_

_The room is deathly still and she knows deep down that she’s pissed off her boss. Can see in the thinly concealed fury wrinkling his brow that Beck will most definitely have words for her once this meeting is over._

_“Well,” Starlin sighs, “The fact remains that our numbers with the female voter need to be better.”_

_Backtracking a little she smiles stiffly as she offers her hand again, “Yes. Well how about I take a look at the numbers and we’ll go from there.”_

_She immediately makes her way towards the corner offices when she leaves and ignores the pointed stares the rest of her team shoots as passes by them._

_It isn’t long until she hears the sounds she’s been dreading._

_“WHO THE HELL DOES SHE THINK SHE IS?!”_

_Gutterman is trailing behind him and as they pass her office door she hears him say, “It may have been the right tactical move to strengthen our relationship with them.”_

_Beck is having none of it._

_“And do you think for one second that was at the forefront of her mind when she essentially told him to take his business and shove it up his gun barrel?!” His secretary is already out in the hall with a brandy and a shaky smile when he finally rounds the corner._

_“CANDACE! I want Jones in my office now!”_

_Michelle is leaning against Beck’s desk when he barges in and she comments idly, “She’s good, isn’t she?”_

_“You’ll look at the numbers?” He runs a hand over his face with an incredulous laugh, “I’m sure the president of one of the most powerful groups on the hill will be honored that Her Majesty has agreed to look at the fucking numbers!”_

_He pauses then, as if he’s waiting for her to say something and she gives nothing. Eyes to the right of him, hands folded neatly across her lap, she is the portrait of indifference._

_“What is going on with you!?”_

_“The current system is so porous, it floats.”_

_His hands are in his hair now, tugging as he makes his way around the desk, glaring at the back of her head. “I don’t remember you caring, ever, one way or another about guns!”_

_“My current position solidified somewhere between Charleston and Sandy Hook. And if you recall, I grew up in NYC. We had that stint with the winged guy? Flying all over the boroughs with amped up alien guns? We definitely wanna ease our position on weapons in today’s world.”_

_The sarcasm is thick._

_She stands to face him then, feeling the emotion well up inside her. “Come on, Quentin, any head-case, felon, or terrorist can buy an assault rifle from a gun show or from his buddy at the Bowl-a-Rama without so much as an ID! We’re two steps away from being able to pick one up at the local Wal-Mart.”_

_“Seriously, Michelle?! This is the fucking gun lobby! Do you know how long I’ve been, Hammer has been, trying to reel them in?” His exasperation settles into something more resolute when catches her gaze again._

_Michelle sits down in an errant rolling chair, no doubt leftover from some board meeting Beck had hosted earlier that day, and she crosses her legs and leans her head against her closed fist as she takes him in._

_“I work on behalf of causes I believe in, she fidgets over her next words even as she desperately tries to remain stoic, her own voice ringing out in her head._

_(Give them nothing.)_

_“That’s how I sleep at night.”_

_It’s Beck’s turn to scoff then, “You don’t sleep at night. Those little pills in your purse are not the kind that lull you to sleep.”_

_Her stomach bottoms out when he simply raises an eyebrow in response to her silence. And what could she say when he’s hit the nail so squarely on the head? It makes her even sicker to recognize that he knows he’s hit a nerve._

_“The only reason you and your team of ragamuffins are here is that your antics might attract a client like Jim Starlin. And now we have.” He takes a long drink from a whiskey she hadn’t seen him pour as he drives his point home._

_“Meaning. If you don’t dedicate yourself to this cause, this firm will have no use for you.”_

* * *

_The faces all blur together as she schmoozes and shakes hands with all the necessary people. Michelle Jones is a lot of things but one thing for certain, she’s damned good at her job._

_She tries not to dwell on the odd meeting she’d had earlier with Mr. Starlin but she can’t seem to settle down, too pumped up on caffeine and adrenaline and maybe a little help from the uppers in the bottom of her bag._

_Her doctor had called her home phone earlier that evening, just to check if she was actually at home. Michelle sleeps, despite what her doctor might presume, but she’s also a busy woman which is how she found herself out the door 10 minutes after ending the call and promising to head to bed._

_She pulls out her phone to check the polls on a few reelection campaigns she’s monitoring when she senses a presence next to her._

_“Uh- On your left.” A man she doesn’t recognize smiles in her direction as he steps up to stand beside her at the curb and it’s everything that she doesn’t immediately give him the finger._

_“If you’re looking for a quote, you’re wasting your time.” She’s already started walking away, only mildly concerned when her new acquaintance follows._

_“I”ve just watched you extricate yourself from three different conversations to use the ladies’ room in the space of 30 minutes.”_

_She keeps her eyes on her phone held tightly in hand as she ups her pace just so, “You’ve busted me. I’m incontinent. Write it up.”_

_This isn’t the first or the last time a reporter has tried to corner her after one of these events, but that doesn’t mean it gets any less annoying._

_He just laughs at her then, “I hope I’m wrong but one might think you’re sick of this town.”_

_MJ whirls on him then, stopping them both in the middle of the sidewalk, “Are you from the Post? How’d you get in?” She hates the Post._

_The man laughs a little at that, “I’d just like 5 minutes of your time.”_

_“Fine. The walk to my car is 3.”_

_“Word on the streets is the gun lobby approached you about the Heaton/Harris bill. And you refused.”_

_She spares him a glance but doesn’t give any more when she tells him, “I don’t comment on ‘word on the hill.’”_

_“I know you wouldn’t have done that unless you opposed it. That’s quite a story. Turning down a prized client because you can’t accept what they stand for?” He’s unphased by her avoidance and continues, “Michelle Jones, the conviction lobbyist. Who knew, right?”_

_“And I said, get to the point.”_

_“Do you believe that the system is broken?”_

_“I’m committed to the second amendment.”_

_“Dildos are illegal in Texas, but Joe Schmoe can walk into a sporting goods store and walk out with a shotgun.”_

_“Yeah, well that would explain the low rate of dildo-related murders in Texas.” Her crassness usually gets people to back off- imagine her surprise when her companion laughs instead._

_“Okay, it wasn’t that funny.” He’s fallen behind her and she stops walking to face him. “What do you want?”_

_He reaches immediately into his jacket to pull out a pen and notepad, catching her eye pointedly, “Your quote.”_

_She sighs, eyes rolling skyward as she thinks. “Fine-uh…’A conviction lobbyist need only believe in their ability to win.’”_

_The man jerks back in surprise at that, “That’s a keeper. So uh- what do you know about the gun lobby’s opponents?”_

_“The Banner campaign?” Her disdain is palpable but in case there was a question she elaborates without prompting, “I know they’re going to lose because their total budget is less than what the gun lobby pays for their office Keurig pods.”_

_“What about their lobbyists? Romanoff & Rogers? They’re a boutique bipartisan Government Affairs agency.”_

_She knows it’s rude to laugh, but she’s been having trouble with that lately. There’ve been many who have tried to catch her in a bad quote but this seems so obvious to her that she doesn’t hold back. She’s always been about telling the truth even if it hurts other people’s feelings._

_Feelings don’t get you results. Feelings don’t get you ahead. She’s never seen a reason to be overly concerned about it._

_“‘Boutique’ is a euphemism for ‘little fish.’ ‘Bipartisan’ denotes a bunch of ‘woke’ weed smoking hippies in suits.”_

_“And what about their CEO? Do you know anything about him?”_

_She hasn’t looked up from her phone once and she’s almost sorry._

_Almost._

_“No, never heard of him. But if the firm is built in his image then I’m sure he’s a simpering wuss with a master’s in ‘style over substance.’”_

_“Got it,” he flips to a new page in his notepad and sniffs smugly, “Oh, never introduced myself, by the way. Name’s Sam Wilson, CEO at Romanoff & Rogers.”_

_Michelle looks up at him then, nostrils flaring as she mentally reasons how hard it will be for her to make this go away._

_“What?” Sam grins at her in an open, easy going way that she’s both drawn to and immediately suspicious of, ”Am I not ‘simpering’ hard enough?”_

_“Your firm’s twelve years old, I’d think your name would be Romanoff or Rogers- What…” she sighs, resigned to whatever misery is going to follow her slip of the tongue, “What is this about?”_

_“You’re pro Heaton-Harris. It’s an open secret that you’re at war with the leadership at Beck & Gutterman,” Sam turns to lean back against a building nearby. “We want you to come lead the fight to pass the bill with us.”_

_She takes a good long look at him, searching his gaze for any inkling of something other than genuine interest. Sam can sense her hesitation and he steps a little closer, “Level with me. Don’t you want to take a swing at this thing?”_

_“Goodbye, Mr. Wilson.” She’s brushing past him as she says it and heading back in the direction they’d come from earlier. He turns to watch her leaving and something occurs to him._

_“Hey, where’s your car?”_

_“Should be at the valet by now.” Smiling to herself, she throws over her shoulder as she rounds the corner, “I don’t drive.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okie doke and we're off! Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @michellesbohh!


	3. Lines Drawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I would’ve thought you’d be gone to one of your other clients by now.” She reaches for her phone on the bedside table and sees that it’s a little after 12am. 
> 
> Confusion washes across his face and he sits up gingerly, looking down at her like he can’t quite figure her out. “I...don’t usually schedule multiple appointments on the days when I see you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wee. Thanks for sticking with this. All will be revealed soooonnnn!!! There's much more to come for these guys!

_Michelle had spent the entire weekend mulling over her options in between frantic sprints from one political event to another. If anyone on staff had noticed her phoning it in over the weekend, they’d neglected to raise the issue with her._

_Smart, for their sake._

_At home she’d been just as much a ball of restless energy, pacing back and forth in her condo until she wore herself out enough to get through another chapter of the John Grisham novel she’d picked up at Barnes & Noble._

_When she walks into the conference room on the following Monday, it’s the first time she can remember herself feeling a little nervous._

_“Okay. I’m only gonna say this once. This is the opportunity of your life. Effective immediately, I’m leaving Beck, Gutterman, & Associates to start working as the lead consultant at Romanoff & Rogers. I have secured for each of you a position at your current salary with the team there.”_

_The room goes quiet and she lets the silence linger for a moment before adding, “Who’s with me?” She glances around the table and smirks as she sees Abe slowly closing the lid on his laptop._

_Hammer stops in the doorway turning towards it and away from it twice before he manages to gather his words._

_“I just spent an hour wiping your shit off of Jim Starlin’s shoes! Assuring him that you’re the right lady to broaden his membership!” He charges back towards her fists shaking and veins growing more and more purple as they strain against his temple. “We’re inches away from a green fucking light!”_

_Michelle raises both her eyebrows in a blink at the sight of his chest heaving after his rant. She tilts her head in faux sympathy and frowns before poking out her lips, “So I should put you down for a maybe?”_

_She watches with muted amusement as he throws his hands out in exasperation, “You can’t possibly win this!”_

_It’s still for a moment and the air is charged as the sinking feeling in her gut tells her that there’s a chance she might leave here alone today. She’s always been a hardass, but she thought she’d done enough in the way of helping them be better to garner some grace from them regarding her sharp edges._

_Hammer turns in a circle and shrugs, smart remark on the tip of his tongue when-_

_“I’m with you.” Michelle has never once said a nice thing about Flash Thompson, but today might be the day she does. Hammer’s face drops and his pleas are immediate._

_“Hey, whoa whoa whoa. I need you, man.”_

_Flash winks before sliding past him, “She needs me more.”_

_After that, Michelle feels her confidence grow as she rattles out the names and they one by one head for the door. “Abe. Charles.”_

_“What the fuck is this Jerry Mcguire?!”_

_Abe laughs out loud before saying “You’ve seen Jerry Mcguire?”_

_Michelle gathers her papers and files into her bag, ready to head out the door, “Alright, Betty. Contact Sam Wilson at Romanoff & Rogers, and let him know there’s a total of five coming over.”_

_“I count four.”_

_Michelle catches her eye, continuing to gather her things with a light chuckle, “Mathematician, you are not.”_

_She sees Betty take a deep breath, seemingly gather herself as she says without making eye contact,” Who said I was going?”_

_“I did. Call Sam.” Michelle makes her way around the large table, walking behind Betty’s chair towards the door. “Now is not the time for you to suddenly develop a sense of humor, Brant.”_

_“That’s good,” she tells her, spinning around her chair to face the door. “Cause I’m not.”_

_Michelle whirls around, fixing Betty with her stoniest stare when Hammer interjects, “Seriously, kid. Go. I could care less…”_

_Betty turns fully away from the table, nodding to herself as she seems to decide concretely on what her next words will be._

_“You were right before. Maybe grad school is a cop-out; I’m at one of the best firms in the city. And maybe your reputation will survive a move to some third tier firm to fight a losing battle, but mine won’t.”_

_Hammer chuckles, a little in shock, “No shit? I take it back.”_

_“I’ve learned a lot from you over the years, MJ. I will miss you.” Betty leans back in the chair, hands still folded neatly in her lap as she concludes, “Those 3am wake up calls? Not so much.”_

* * *

_“Seriously.”_

_Parker’s lounging back against the headboard again as she enters room 904 for her usual weekly “fix.”_

_Michelle is already stepping out of her shoes, kicking them into the corner by the bedroom door when she whirls back, “I can’t believe they sent you again after I specifically asked for Harry.”_

_“I already told you. Harry’s a goner. He’s not gonna be back.”_

_He swings his legs over the side of the bed as he leans forward, resting on his arms across his knees and tilting his head in a way that has her clenching her thighs together, “Didn’t we have fun?”_

_It’s an overt flirtation, but when she looks into his eyes, she sees that he’s really asking._

_“We did.” MJ breaks his gaze briefly, tracking the way he licks his lips when her eyes fall and rest there. “I don’t want you to think I didn’t- I mean that I wasn’t…”_

_She shifts from one foot to the other, embarrassed and flushed at the memories of their night together flooding back through her until she locks into liquid brown again, “...satisfied.”_

_He straightens up at that, rising from the bed to meet her where she’s planted herself, just inside the doorway. “So you gonna tell me your name this time?”_

_He takes hold of her then, fingers fanning out to grip at her hips like her body is familiar to him after just one night. She doesn’t resist when he applies enough pressure to fold her into his arms._

_He noses into the crook of her neck, letting his lips trail like a feather up the length of it until he can tug gently on the lobe of her ear._

_“I can’t,” she exhales as she presses her face into his cheek- the softness of his curls tickling her nose. “I don’t need you judging me too.” He stills at that, but seems to understand that he won’t get any more out of her tonight._

_Michelle melts into the sureness of his arms around her as he replaces his teeth with tongue, flicking to tease her before he presses his lips behind her ear, kisses growing more and more heated as he makes his descent back into her cleavage._

_He fumbles with her blouse for a moment before she brings her own hands up to help, deftly undoing all the buttons and giving him all the access he wants._

_“Aren’t you supposed to be a professional?” she teases._

_His mouth finds the curve of her breast immediately and she can feel his smile as his lips slide over to mouth at her nipple through the thin fabric of her bra._

_“I don’t know,” He takes a step forward and Michelle follows his lead until her back hits the wall. Her body has a mind of its own and her thigh is hitched up against his hip before she can blink. “This feels pretty unprofessional.”_

_And their meetings go on like that for weeks. Michelle shows up strung out and demanding, wanting him to distract her in all the best ways so she doesn’t dwell on the mess she’s made of her career._

_Parker surprisingly, is always available when she calls. It could be 2 days before or 2 hours before she tells him she needs him and he’s always there. To the point that she brings it up to him because it’s been gnawing at her mind for so long._

_The fact that she’s perched astride him, riding him slowly is mere coincidence and Michelle definitely hadn’t calculated that this would be the best time to get some answers._

_“Do you have like...no other clients?” She’s panting as he hits that spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back and he grins, pulling his lips away from where he’s been absently kissing her._

_“I do, trust me. I just,” he thrusts up suddenly, startling her into a moan that has her glaring down at his smug face, “have my favorites.”_

_She’s not entirely satisfied with his answer but he sets to work making sure she’s too breathless to continue the conversation and by the time they’re lying, tangled up in quickly cooling sheets, she’s moved on._

_Parker traces nonsense patterns across the spanse of her naked back as she allows sleep to overtake her. His fingers trail this way and that and the sigh she releases brings a smile to his face that she doesn’t get to see as she drifts into an easy slumber._

_What shocks her is that, for the first time, he’s still there when she wakes up._

_She stretches, feeling the pleasant ache in her body that only comes from being really well fucked and she basks in the comfort of his arms around her, turning into his warmth until she remembers that she’s paid for this and tenses._

_“I would’ve thought you’d be gone to one of your other clients by now.” She reaches for her phone on the bedside table and sees that it’s a little after 12am._

_Confusion washes across his face and he sits up gingerly, looking down at her like he can’t quite figure her out. “I...don’t usually schedule multiple appointments on the days when I see you…”_

_It’s definitely not what she expects to hear and she feels the creep of insecurity under her skin when he doesn’t look away from her. Her makeup’s been smudged and kissed away she can feel where the sweat at her brow is curling her otherwise straightened hair._

_And Parker’s looking at her like he can’t quite believe she’s here, like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and she can’t take it. Her heart hammers erratically against her breastbone when he leans in, slowly as if not to spook her._

_His lips ghost over hers, almost trembling before he catches them in a firm kiss and Michelle knows this is something else. This isn’t the way they work and she screams at herself to push him away. To stop it before it’s too late, but all she does is weave her hands into his hair and press closer._

_He kisses her sweetly, just lips until she gasps and he readily dips his tongue out to dance with hers. Her moan is out of her control and Parker gets a grip at the back of her head at the sound of it. Sealing their mouths even more closely as he settles his weight half on top of her._

_She loves how grounded she feels with him pressing her down and she doesn’t question it when the kiss lasts for another 15 minutes. Never escalating, but enough to have her whimpering in longing once Parker finally releases her._

_He pants, forehead slipping against hers before a little chuckle escapes him, “What was tha-”_

_She silences him with a finger and a pleading look and he seems to get it. And even though it goes against everything he wants and feels as he's tangled up with her, he lets it go._

_At least for the moment._

* * *

_"I thought it’d be weirder here. Like bean bags… a meditation room maybe?” Charles muses, looking around their new office space with wide eyes._

_It’s definitely not as nice as their previous work room, but it’s nothing to look down on either. Besides, a job is a job in DC, and a steady one is more than anyone his age could hope for in their line of work. He’s not in the habit of looking gift horses in the mouth._

_Flash is perched on the edge of a nearby desk, holding court in his usual fashion as they wait for the first meeting with their combined teams to begin when he pipes in, “I know it's the first day, but at least tell me you have shower rooms?”_

_Abe rolls his eyes at him because...well it’s Flash, but seems to actually process the words a beat later. “Wait...Beck, Gutterman had shower rooms?”_

_Flash’s smile is smug as he says, “Yeah. Clients felt like they needed one after 30 minutes with Beck.”_

_“We had all the facilities and no time to use them. This’ll do fine,” Charles offers as he catches up to them on the way into the conference room. Ever the voice of reason._

_Flash pouts a little but continues with his assessment of their new digs anyway, “The vending machine downstairs is weird! Wouldn’t give me my beverage until I told it my gender and age range.”_

_Even Abe frowns at this new information, but before they can comment a tall woman with seemingly weightless hair, a coffee in hand, and a heavy presence of authority brushes past._

_“The vending machines companies sell our personal details to big advertising. I already posted a complaint.”_

_Flash whistles lowly and smirks, “That’s okay. I just lied.”_

_He looks overly pleased with himself for having “cheated the system” until Abe quips from behind him, “You told it you were an adult male?”_

_“Why are you so terrible to him?” Sally’s doing her best to feign concern, but she’s snickering a little too much as she asks it. Flash makes a sound of moderate protest but then-_

_“Harrington just pulled the ‘Nutella Tax!’” Charles is practically beaming as he pulls out his chair._

_Abe perks up immediately and he’s just as excited when Flash asks, “When did you hear?”_

_“I just got it now.”_

_“And you’re the ones who killed it?” A tall, handsome (objectively, okay?) guy with slicked back hair and a too tight smile inserts himself into the conversation._

_Flash grins triumphantly, “Dead as the dodo.”_

_The man, who’d they’d come to know as Brad, eyes Flash challengingly, “Along with how many other unique species in the Indonesian rainforest?”_

_“I don’t know but it seems like they should decide because it’s...their country.”_

_Sally cuts the tension building between them by asking the question that’s been on everyone’s mind but no one has dared ask. “So are the rumours true?”_

_Abe grins and jumps in, “Yes. Flash is really an ungendered human pod person.”_

_Sally sighs and presses on without acknowledging the dig at Flash, “ Is Jones really the human personification of an ice cube?”_

_Flash leans in conspiratorially to add, “Yeah, she pees standing up and...like...I don’t even do that.”_

_Liz pulls a face next to him, “Do you even think before you speak?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! New digs. We love that. Now we can get into the real shenanigans! Thanks for reading! Come scream at me on tumblr @michellesbohh


	4. The Pieces in Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she rejoins her team, she can still feel his eyes on her until the second she slips into the dining room and out of sight. 
> 
> He waits there in the center of the lobby for a moment, like she might turn around and come back and neither of them notices the man standing back in the shadows pull out his phone.
> 
> “Boss, I think we got something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone following along this story! Your comments keep me going! 
> 
> Dedicating this chapter to @spidermanhomecomeme for helping me choose an alias I needed. Thanks, G!

It’s silent in the hallway. Michelle flops heavily onto the bench backed against the wall as she watches Cindy press the elevator button, and then press it again when she gets impatient.

She doesn’t look at her and the offices are long empty after the events of the day. After her outburst things had gotten even more hectic as the entire block was evacuated due to a security threat. 

Michelle still isn’t sure what happened, but in the throng of journalists pouring out of the courtroom with her, she’d picked up the words “enhanced weapons” and “purple glow” and she’d understood. 

It’s been 5 months since the last time any of those crazy weapons had cropped up, but there’d been two incidents before this one. 

She squeezes her eyes shut, remembering the panic that she and Cindy had escaped. Remembering how similar it felt to the terror that had throttled a city and has evaded law enforcement to this day. 

Blinking away the emotion, she starts when Cindy finally speaks, only a whisper.

“Five years.” Her voice is still even, calm and controlled just like the lawyer she is. “Five years minimum," she repeats and Michelle takes the bait because she can’t help herself. 

“What’s five years?” 

Cindy ignores her, “All for some _stupid_ quip about Indonesia being in Asia…” 

Disbelief colors her tone, as she talks entirely to herself, shoulders bouncing though her movements are tense, stiff, as she tries her best not to betray her emotions. “Can’t you see how that entire thing was a construct _designed_ to--” she shrugs, “Doesn’t matter. It worked.” 

“Are you gonna tell me what five years is?” 

“You fell for it. Smartest operative on the hill…” The rest of her sentence is lost on Michelle as she mumbles under her breath, “is it how long this conversation is gonna feel cause--”

“It’s the going rate for perjury before Congress,” Cindy tells her. She drops her bag and briefcase on the bench next to Michelle, slipping her arms into the coat she’d been carrying. 

“Anyone who wants you done for,” Cindy lets out a bitter laugh, “and that’s _a lot_ of people, is out there searching for that one thing, that _one_ moment where you messed up and they catch you in a lie. And you’ve thrown out the fifth now.” 

Michelle sobers at that, sitting up a little straighter only to slump back against the wall, “What if I just...stay silent?” 

“Wow, that’s a great idea. _Shit,_ why didn’t your lawyer think of that?” Cindy has never looked less amused, and that’s saying something. 

“If I refuse to answer--”

Cindy whirls on her then, raising her voice and wincing at the way it echoes in the emptiness around them, “Then they’ll throw you in jail for contempt of Congress! You’ve really fucking stepped in it, Michelle. All because you just _had_ to have the last word. You _had_ to be right.” 

Michelle doesn’t have a response to that so Cindy turns back towards the elevators, jamming her finger into the button over and over until she finally hears the beep of it reaching her floor. 

“Your car is downstairs. Go home. Stare at the ceiling and get ready to be laid bare and raked over the coals tomorrow,” she warns Michelle, stepping into the elevator just as Michelle finds her voice again. 

“I know I haven’t had the best luck with getting you to trust me, but--” she tries, but it’s no use as Cindy interrupts her again with one last firm warning. 

“ _Don’t_ perjure yourself.” 

* * *

_It’s been a long day._

_Between the sheer amount of new legislation put in front of them that day and the ever looming threat of that gun bill that no one, no one had anticipated gaining any traction, Adrian Toomes is amazed he’s able to drag his feet down to the parking garage at the end of the day._

_The memo had come across his desk that cutthroat lobbyist Michelle Jones had taken up the fight to get this bill passed and he’d made the mistake of writing it off as “impossible” even with her impressive track record._

_Unfortunately, the polling numbers are not telling the same story._

_He’s just shutting the door and reaching for the ignition when the passenger’s side door is yanked open and he’s greeted with a smarmy grin from the suited man next to him._

_It takes him a moment to work through the shock before he recognizes Quentin Beck sitting across from him._

_“Oh, come on. Don’t act like you’re surprised to see me? We’re old friends right?”_

* * *

_Michelle makes her way into the en suite bathroom to brush her teeth as Parker rolls out of bed after her and begins redressing. He follows her into the bathroom a few seconds later and she glances at him in the mirror._

_“I’ve got work to do tonight.”_

_He drops his shoes on the floor as he balances to put on his socks, “Big case?”_

_She pauses brushing for a moment to sigh, “Parker. I’ve told you how this works. We do not exchange things about our lives. We exchange my cash for your…”_

_He catches her eye in the mirror again when she trails off and he smirks. “Dick?”_

_Despite her best efforts, she shivers, “I was gonna say ‘skill set.’” She spits out the excess foam before rinsing her mouth with water from the tap, “but that’s the only exchange I’m willing to make.”_

_“Now you sound like a banker,” he grins, somehow having still not put his shirt on by the time she turns to face him. “But it’s fine. I’ve gotta prep for a gala event. Not everyone hires me for my…’skill set’”_

_She notices he’s finally gotten his shirt on again, and she reaches for the envelope of cash sitting on the vanity and hands it to him. “I’ll be seeing you.”_

_Parker steps into her then, she lets him. She lets him lower her arm holding the envelope and she lets him weave his arms back around her waist. She lets him press his hands to the curve of her backside and she lets him tilt her into a slow kiss._

_Her free hand reaches up to tangle in his hair and he pulls her tighter into him when she tugs on it. The envelope slips free of her loose hold as Parker backs her up until she feels the hard edge of the counter pressing into her._

_She brings up her other hand to grab at his shoulders, to pull at the collar of his shirt as Parker makes his presence known in the cradle of her thighs. It makes her blood run hot to feel him pressed against her, already hard and aching._

_Their kisses spark and crackle with heat as she teases their tongues together, deepening the kiss in response to the satisfied groans he muffles into her lips. Her hands fumble for the buttons on his jeans as he finally tears his mouth away from hers to explore the skin of her neck._

_“I don’t have...I didn’t bring enough for two rounds- oh.” Parker quiets her when his hands make quick work of her sleeping shorts and press into the wetness pooling between her thighs._

_He drags her back into a bruising kiss with hand at the back of her neck, leaning in until her upper half is balanced against the mirror of the vanity, and even then he presses closer, sealing their lips together as he slips two fingers first and then a third into her slick heat._

_Michelle cries out when he sets a steady pace, his fingers gunning in and out of her with a precision she’s never found in any lover before him._

_“Oh, trust me,” he pants, leaning down to suck at the curve of her breast where her shirt’s been shifted to expose her. “This one’s on the house.”_

_He picks up his pace then, and Michelle doesn’t recognize the sounds she’s making as she teeters closer and closer to what she knows will be a shuddering finish._

_Parker whispers praises into her skin, about her beauty, how sexy she is, how good she feels when he touches her and in a moment of vulnerability she tugs on his hair, “Look at me.”_

_His eyes are on her in an instant, and she feels pleasure prickling through every inch of body._

_She finds her finish in the brown of his eyes and he works her down with ease. He seems genuinely confused when she again reaches for him, fumbling with the button of his jeans._

_“No, I didn’t do that so you would-”_

_He’s cut off by the feeling of her lips catching his, only for a moment and then she’s already gone as if she’d never been there in the first place._

_Parker blinks up at her perched on the counter, the relaxed contentment of her recent peak still in the flush of her cheeks._

_It’s not the first time he’s been stunned by her beauty but he thinks he wouldn’t mind it happening more often. The lights of the vanity are shining through the mess of her curls and her eyes are wide and a little apprehensive as she gazes at him._

_The moment feels more significant than the kind that can be bought and he feels like he has to say something. “I know you said we can’t talk about-”_

_Something akin to panic flashes in her eyes just as she darts forward to kiss him again,“Hey...”_

_She finally pops the button on his Levi’s and works her hand into his briefs when she whispers, “Shut up.”_

* * *

“ _What we’re about to discuss should only be spoken about in code in the office and over email,” Michelle tells them bluntly, doing her best not to shiver from the winter air as she gathers her new team in the courtyard of their building._

_Sally looks more than irritated enough for all of them and Brad shifts his weight between his legs, trying to keep the blood flowing and scanning the area with an uncomfortable look on his face._

_Flash, rubbing his arms briskly, scoffs, “What? You think our conference room is wearing a wire?” Michelle levels him with a stern look that cuts off his laughter instantly._

_“My ex-employers are not above bugging and tapping, trust me,” her eyes flit over the small crowd in front of her, lingering here and there just to watch them squirm. “You never know how low people will stoop when they feel like it benefits them.”_

_Sam moves to the front of the group, “Wait are you serious, do we need to look into th--”_

_Ignoring him, Michelle presses on, “We are going to target a Senator from a state we have zero right to swing.” Sam huffs, “Oh, god. Please don’t say--”_

_“Alberto Gomez: Republican. Florida.”_

_Everyone is silent, not quite believing that she’s serious. Florida is a state with some of the most vocal gun rights advocates in the country and regularly excuses crimes committed in relation to overzealous gun enthusiasts._

_It’s insanity to even consider that they could get them to back a bill that so vehemently combats some of their state’s core tenets. The constituents would be out for blood._

_Finally Sam speaks up, hands shoved deep into his pockets and puts words to the energy everyone is feeling, “What?! I thought you were gonna say Missouri. Florida is preposterous.”_

_He stares at her hard, like he knows there’s something about this puzzle that’s not lining up, but he hasn’t quite figured it out yet._

_Michelle nods, smiling sweet as ever, “I’m being optimistic?” Sam seems even more exasperated with that answer than anything and he pushes, “Public opinion runs against the bill in Florida.”_

_“Let’s talk later,” she says and there must be something in her eyes that convinces him because he drops it._

_“Flash, you’re in charge of ad banners. Charles, I want two phone pitches drafted by the end of day tomorrow, and Liz I want stats in front of him within the hour. Any questions?”_

_None of them speak, but a few of them share uneasy glances between them. After a beat she nods and they begin to disperse, anxious to get back into the warmth of the office after having been outside for so long._

_“I’m gonna grab a smoke, anyone joining?” Brad grins, running an anxious hand through his hair when he gets the expected chorus of “no’s.”_

_Michelle sidles over to him, hands dug deep into her pockets as the wind starts to pick up and the cold begins to bite even through her coat. “I didn’t know you were a smoker?”_

_She phrases it like a question as she walks past Brad, turning around at the last minute to watch as she makes her way inside._

_He looks caught for a moment before he relaxes back into that easy going energy that’s come to define him, “Had to start...working for you is...intense.”_

_She can’t fault him there, so Michelle smirks a little and lifts her shoulder in a shrug before she spins and jogs the last bit up the stairs inside._

_It isn’t until she’s back in her office that Sam approaches her. He slides the door shut, but the walls are made of glass so it’s obvious to everyone that there’s tension brewing between them._

_“What the hell are you thinking?”_

_“That you should let me do my job,” she says, fingers itching to reach for her bag but knowing there’s no way she’d be able to get what she needs undetected._

_“This isn’t Beck Gutterman. Our clients are non-profit, and you wanna blow half a million of our funding on some hare-brained James Bond level--” Michelle sees Sally look up from her place at the desk closest to them at the rising of Sam’s voice._

_(Not sound proof either, she notes.)_

_She’d comment on the matter but Sam isn’t done apparently and she turns back just as he digs in and gets going, “I basically live in a bush with a basket, just waiting to jump out at any person who even looks like money and you--”_

_“I’m sorry, I thought it was explicit in your pitch to lure me here that you had a certain amount of trust that I could run this campaign, yes?”_

_Sam sputters a little at that, waving his hand out in front of him because she’s right and he knows it._

_Michelle lets him stew in the silence her blatant truth had commanded until she relaxes a little, “I know what I’m doing.”_

_It almost looks like he wants to argue with her, but her track record speaks for itself and she knows she’s settled this for now when Sam drags a hand over his face and sighs, turning to leave._

_“And...” she adds, just as he’s sliding the door open, waiting for him to look her in the eyes, “I don’t do hare-brained.”_

_Across town, a phone chirps with a new email alert and Hammer excuses himself from a meeting with syrupy sweet apologies to his client as he dials a familiar number._

_“Quentin, we need to talk about Florida.”_

* * *

_“You’re Michelle Jones.”_

_The voice stops her in her tracks, the click clack of her heels going quiet when she hears it._

_“I am,” her eyes are swirling as she faces him, a mix of betrayal and hurt that she has no right to feel given their relationship, but also a little unease. “Do you need something?”_

_He stares at her for a moment before he delicately places a palm to his chest, stepping closer, “I’m Luke Hanson. I just- you remind me of someone I know.”_

_They're in the lobby of the hotel they frequent and there’s about 100 different political pawns bustling around them getting ready for a gala that’s supposed to start in an hour._

_They absolutely cannot do this here._

_“I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re mistaken, but I get that a lot, so no worries.” She’s ready to head back to her team, waiting just across the lobby from where she’s stopped, but he presses on._

_“Are you sure? Cause I’m sure I could never forget a pretty face like yours,” he pushes, stepping in just close enough that she can smell his cologne from where she stands, close enough to see the faint bruise peeking underneath his collar._

_The one that she’d inadvertently left there the night before when her orgasm crept up out of nowhere and she’d buried her face into his neck to muffle her screams as he’d fucked her right through it and into another._

_They’ve been talking too long now. Anyone who knows her well enough, will be suspicious as she would never give this much attention to someone she didn’t at least vaguely recognize. This spell he puts on her, the way she can’t keep her boundaries in order with him is...concerning._

_Flash whistles from across the room, crude as ever, and says “Hey, Jones. Nice man candy. Where’d you order him from?”_

_Parker has the decency not to outright smirk, but she can see the laughter in his eyes at just how spot on Flash is even if he had no idea how much. She risks a hushed, “I will talk to you later,” before she steps back and raises a middle finger in Flash’s direction._

_“Oh, by all means. He’s all yours,” she’s still backing up, “Mr. Hanson, was it? I hope you find whoever you were looking for.”_

_When she rejoins her team, she can still feel his eyes on her until the second she slips into the dining room and out of sight._

_He waits there in the center of the lobby for a moment, like she might turn around and come back and neither of them notices the man standing back in the shadows pull out his phone._

_“Boss, I think we got something.”_

* * *

“Peter, do you really think this is the best idea?” Ned is facing away from him tapping furiously against his keyboard as he works to perfect some kind of new surveillance device.

It’s not for Peter and that’s what gets his attention originally, but he knows that Ned has other clients and he knows that he would never betray their confidence either. Not even to Peter. 

“Ned, I promise this is it. There was a weapons sighting just a couple days ago so we’re getting close,” he implores, moving around him to lean over the workstation to catch his eye. “I’ve never been this sure before!” Ned levels him with a disbelieving stare and Peter amends sheepishly, “Okay. I haven’t been this sure since the last time I was this sure.” 

“Mmm.” 

Peter scoffs, running a hand through his messy hair and pulling out his phone to check the time despite him having nowhere he needs to be today. 

He won’t allow himself to ponder over what updates he’s hoping to find there, or more specifically, what messages from a certain someone asking to meet up he’s hoping for. 

“Did she message you?”

Peter nearly leaps a foot in the air and Ned just smirks at him, eyes barely bothering to lift from the wires in front of him. “I--” he folds his arms, tucking the phone underneath his left one as he rocks onto the balls of his feet and back again. “I don’t know what you mean, man.” 

“Message. As in text message. She. As in did the girl you’ve been sleeping with for money, contact you digitally?” Peter groans. 

“Ned, come on, you know it’s not like that with her…” 

A spark jolts up between them as Ned plays the part, “Oh? Did you stop sleeping with her?” 

Peter’s silence says it all so Ned continues, unphased, “Right. And did she stop expressing her gratitude in the form of a crisp stack of ‘benjamins’ and a pat on the ass?” 

“That was one time...”

Ned shrugs, “You didn’t have to tell me about it.” 

And okay, fair, but Peter hasn’t been able to keep a secret from Ned since he found out about Spider-man. It just seemed silly to keep anything else if he knew about his arguably most important secret. 

“I just...I know you don’t approve of me hitting the streets like that, but it pays good money and the schedule lets me spend more time--”

“Peter, I’m not judging. You’ve got money making ass-ets and,” Ned gestures in a vague circle with his free hand, “all these servers and gadgets need the money made. Our fearless government is not an entity of generosity. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t.” Peter tells him and after a beat, “Besides, she’s been really busy this week. I haven’t seen her at all actually…”

Ned sighs, exhausted, “Are you even still seeing other clients, Peter? I know she’s your main but how many other appointments are you taking?”

For a moment they don’t say anything and Peter’s ears glow red at the insinuation. “Well, she pays pretty well so I haven’t really needed to--”

“Oh my god, Peter!” And the man in question winces at the exasperation he can hear in Ned’s tone. “Seriously, Peter? This is not going to end well...” 

“I’ll be careful, I swear. I have it under control,” he says, and Ned seemingly finds whatever reassurance he needs in the steadiness of Peter’s gaze, because he shifts gears seamlessly and without another word.

“Okay, so tell me what we’re working on today.

* * *

Peter is exhausted. 

He’s spent the past 2 hours going over the new leads he’s found in the last few months of living in DC, still very shocked and secretly grateful that Ned had already been living here when Peter called him to let him know he’d be moving down to continue their search for the Vulture. 

As he crosses the street, heading towards the entrance of his agency’s building, he suddenly finds his path blocked by a strikingly gorgeous woman with shining blonde hair. 

“Uh, excuse me,” he stutters, making to step around her only to be stopped when she speaks. 

“Hey, I was looking for someone,” she tells him, eyes widening with suggestion and that’s what makes him pause.

“Yeah? What’s that gotta do with me?”

“A friend told me that I could hang out around here if I was looking for some entertainment. Said I should ask for ‘Parker,’” she purrs, relishing in the spellbound look on his face. 

So many emotions run through his mind at that…

_How did she hear about the agency? Who gave her that name? Why him?_

“Okay, so we can go up to the office and I’m sure they’ll be able to set you up with an appointment with him.” 

It’s then that he really takes a look at her, noticing for the first time that she’s in possession of a particular set of...assets. He flushes red when she pushes out her chest, obviously aware of his leering.

She’s exactly the kind of client he’d have hoped to book in previous months, but now all he can do is think of much he likes the feel of long legs and unruly curls wrapping him up and how he somehow can’t muster the enthusiasm that he used to have even with someone so undeniably attractive showing him attention. 

The woman steps in closer, much closer than he seems to think is necessary, and runs a finger down his chest.

“So...are you him? Are you Parker?” Her knuckles graze teasingly against his belt buckle as stays close and waits for his answer. 

“Uh,” he swallows, feeling an uncomfortable tug of guilt in the back of his mind that he won’t acknowledge after the conversation he’d had with Ned the other day. 

“Yeah, I’m him, I guess?” 

“You’re not sure,” she teases and something nags at him, not quite a sense of danger, but _something._ She grins and her teeth gleam in the light from the streetlamp, sharp and threatening in a way a cat might smile once it's cornered it’s prey. “It’s _Peter_ Parker, isn’t it?” 

And just like that, he’s alert, stepping fully out of her orbit and the way she pouts would almost convince him she misses the contact if not for the subtle challenge in the steadiness of her gaze. 

“Who are you?”

She laughs then, circling around him with a grace and lightness that seems too perfect. It’s like she floats, barely putting all her weight in one spot before she’s dancing into the next. 

“Oh, I asked you first so let’s try again, Peter Parker.” It’s no longer a question and she digs into her bag when all he can do is take another step back and nod slowly. 

“Perfect,” she whispers more to herself than to him as she produces a plain manila envelope and hands it to him, “You’ve been served. Later hot stuff.” 

He glosses over the words “character witness” and “summons” until he sees one name, the name of the defendant, standing out loudly amongst the rest of the print on the page. 

Michelle Jones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. Yes. Lots going on. Come find me on tumblr @michellesbohh!
> 
> Thanks for reading and I'd love to hear what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Mentions of drug dependency/addiction and pills
> 
> It is by no means the central plot but I wanted to make sure I called it out in case anyone is not comfortable reading. This is the chapter that mentions it the most. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and I am here on tumblr to be yelled at @michellesbohh


End file.
